


Shut Up, Sam

by Zetal (Rodinia)



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed to Silence, M/M, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, Sibling Incest, The Perils Of Getting Involved With Your Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal
Summary: Sam hasn't spoken to Dean since the fight in the graveyard.  At first, Dean enjoys it, but then it starts to bother him.





	Shut Up, Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wincest Writing Challenge Round 21: Curses  
> Prompt: Cursed to silence  
> Partner: wxncesters
> 
> Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo  
> Square: Big Brother Instinct

It had been kind of nice, at first. Sure, Sam was still perfectly capable of the bitchfaces and eyerolls, and in his frustration he was a little more prone to smacking him than usual, but Sam giving him the silent treatment was kind of nice. He didn’t have to listen to Sam’s complaining about stopping for hamburgers again, or the rant about the motel room being… okay, even for them this was a little low, but it had a bed that Sam could stretch all the way out on and with the hit Sam’s back had taken, Sam needed that. He’d thank Dean in the morning – if he was talking, by then.

He started getting a little worried when Sam didn’t have anything to say about Becki Ann hitting on him and Dean making a show of positive attention to go with the rejection. Sam was normally the jealous type, and although he knew Dean wasn’t going to go off with some chick… there were usually still comments about them.

“Come on, Sam. You’ve made your point. You can talk to me again,” Dean lied. Whatever point Sam was making, Dean had no idea what it was. Sam seemed to realize that, as his response was a bitchface and a raised eyebrow. “Okay, maybe you haven’t made your point, but my point is, it’s obvious that the silent treatment isn’t gonna make it for you. So you need to use your words and tell me what your point is, okay? You’re the one who’s always saying we need to learn to communicate better, so what’s with this not talking bullshit? If you were really pissed enough at me not to be able to talk without cussing me out, you wouldn’t have come with me to the bar.”

Sam just shrugged and took a sip of his beer. Then he opened his mouth and let it flap a few times like he was trying to tell Dean off, but couldn’t. It was kind of hilarious. Then Sam grabbed his computer, typed a bit, and turned it to face Dean.

REMEMBER HOW YOU TOLD ME TO SHUT UP AFTER I COMPLAINED ABOUT YOUR DRIVING TO THE MOTEL? CONGRATULATIONS. IT WORKED.

Um. Dean looked between the computer and his brother. “You telling me you’re… cursed? You literally can’t talk? This isn’t you being a little bitch and giving me the silent treatment, this is something that means our job’s not finished here?”

PRETTY MUCH. NICE GOING, JERK.

“Dammit, Sammy, you should’ve told me this earlier!” Sam didn’t need the computer for his retort, just spreading his hands to ask _how_ he was supposed to tell Dean that. As much as Dean would have liked to shut Sam up, he didn’t have an answer for that one. “What do we do now? This was a normal spirit, no magic involved, spirit’s gone so any ghost sickness should be too…”

Sam shrugged again and gestured at the beers in front of them. Dean picked his up and drained it. “Come on. We gotta fix this. You need to be able to talk, Sammy. I gotta be able to hear your voice.” Sam raised an eyebrow, but he drained his beer and closed up his computer to follow Dean to the car.

Back at the hotel, Dean had expected the computer to come back out, so he got on his phone to search the local news for anything that might indicate a witch or some kind of monster they’d missed because they were looking for a spirit. Instead, Sam dropped his computer bag into a chair and headed for the bathroom. Okay, dude needed to pee, whatever. These things happened. He’d get to work when he came out, right?

Apparently not, as Sam came out stripped down to his underwear and flopped into bed. Something was wrong. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, one arm held out and the other patting the bed. The invitation was obvious, but something was bugging Dean now. This wasn’t like Sam, not to care that he was under some sort of spell.

On the other hand, Sam was asking for sex, or at least mostly naked cuddles. This had happened exactly twice before – the night Sam had been drunk enough to ignore the gazillion reasons he shouldn’t be asking Dean for sex, and the night after, when he’d thanked Dean for saying no because he was clearly unable to give consent and asked him again sober. “This isn’t about me asking and knowing you wanted it despite saying no, Dean. I want it too. It’s just that we’re still rebuilding our bond as brothers, and I was so scared I was gonna screw that up I couldn’t say anything. If I was wrong about you wanting it too, I could lose you forever, worse than Stanford. And I can’t do that.”

Sam hadn’t initiated since then, although he responded enthusiastically almost any time Dean started things. Dean had asked, once, and Sam had struggled to explain that it was a self-esteem thing. He felt unclean – “not because of this, this is good, it’s just there’s something in me that I can’t explain, probably something about my connection to Yellow Eyes” – and reaching out to Dean felt wrong, like he’d somehow drag Dean down with him.

“Bullshit. You’re a better person than I am, you’re gonna be the one hauling my ass into Heaven because it’s not Heaven if we’re not together,” Dean had informed him. Sam had promised to work on it, to try to believe that – at the very least, to believe that Dean believed it and didn’t mind being dragged into Sam’s darkness even if he was wrong.

Now, with his arms around Sam and his clothes long since abandoned, he could believe that Sam was starting to get over it. Something was still bothering him, and it was forcing its way through the post-coital haze. He tried to shove it aside, to focus on Sam.

When it hit him, he sat straight up, staring at his brother in betrayal. “Seriously, dude?”

Sam burst into laughter. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure out. Man, the look on your face right now…”

“This whole thing was a prank? You know what happens now…”

“You never tell me to shut up again, just in case this time there really is a curse?” Dean glared, and Sam’s laughter got harder. “Yeah, I know, long shot anyway, but come on, dude. Just accept I won this round, before you put itching powder in my underwear and have it backfire on you.”

“God, I cannot believe I fell for that. I will be collecting my revenge. Be prepared.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of… big brother instinct that tells you when something’s wrong with me?”

“Yeah, and how’s your back again?”

Sam winced. “Yeah, okay, point taken.”


End file.
